


Merry Christmas, Swan.

by joneskillian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Boss!Emma, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Employee!Killian, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4700273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joneskillian/pseuds/joneskillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Office AU. Was supposed to be a small oneshot, but got carried away.<br/>Summary? Eh...: Emma is Killian's boss, and they have a merry Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Swan.

**Author's Note:**

> Meanwhile, this fic is almost 2 years old. I posted this on fanfiction.net, but realised I never posted in here, so here it goes.  
> I know it's August, but if tumblr can get excited about Halloween in February, I can post this fic now.
> 
> My writing style may have changed a bit already, (and I've gotten slightly better at writing mature scenes) but I had no intention of change it, so here's the fic exactly the way I wrote it two years ago.

"Jones?" Her voice sounds through the door.

"Yes, Miss Swan?" Killian replies, dropping his pen to get up.

"Coffee, please, thank you," she says softly, almost inaudibly through the closed door. Killian holds back a sigh and walks towards the small office kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. Two milks, two sugars, no cookie. Just as always, but hey at least she learned to say please now. He walks back, coffee in his one hand, opening the black door to her office with his other. He will never fail to be amazed by the view when he walks in.

First, there is her office, grand, black and white colouring scheme, modern interior, that kind of thing. And second, the back wall is one giant window, looking over the city. On a cloudy day, you can see the skyscrapers towering over the low clouds. On a rainy day - even with the modern interior - the office feels like the most cosy place in the world. And now, a sunny day, you have the perfect view over the city and its skyscrapers.

Today, however, her usually tidy office is messy, both her desk and floor are covered in papers. Between the papers a path is cleared so that her bookshelf, the doorway and her desk are reachable. He makes his way through the papers, trying not to spill the coffee.

"Your coffee," he doesn't even bother to smile, she never looks up anyway, he just places it on her desk, right between her pencil case and the telephone, a place he would never forget. The first day he started working here, she had yelled at him, something along the lines of 'Can't you see there is a space for it right here, stop bothering me with your stupid questions, I'm busy'. She's a real charmer. He came out of her office, red-faced, and his colleagues told him everything there was to know about her so that she would never have to yell at him again. And she never did, it was the first and only time she ever yelled at him.

He did as he was told, politely answered to her questions and kept his mouth shut most of the time. But she never asked him for much, coffee, files, appointments and on a good day, she'd get the first two herself. She wasn't that bad, she was just obsessed with doing her job right, she didn't like to be bothered when she's busy. Sometimes, when they're alone she smiles at him. One time, she even made a joke. He looks at her, hesitation, contemplating his odds; how mad would she be if he said something nice right now? She is busy though...

"Merry Christmas Eve," he whispers before leaving the side of her desk again, hoping she hadn't heard it after all.

"It is still early in the afternoon," she answers, her voice absent, "And I don't celebrate Christmas, Mr. Jones." Somewhere he is thankful she sounds so absent, maybe if she weren't she would raise her voice at him for getting his facts wrong, or she would urge him out of the room for wasting her time.

"I didn't know you were Jewish," Killian replies. Her eyes are still scanning the paper as she smiles a mocking smile, breathing out softly while shaking her head.

"I'm not Jewish, I don't celebrate it because I have no time to celebrate, nor do I have someone to celebrate it with," Emma replies and then she looks up, her green eyes meeting with his, they are wide and pleasant to look at. Kind, even when she's not frowning, worrying, scowling, like she usually does. Her eyebrow raises, "Do you have time to spare, or are you busy?"

"Yes, I'll get back to work," he nods, reaching out for the door handle.

"Not what I meant," she sighed, "I need someone to look at it and find the flaws in it, since you're here..." Killian let go of the door handle, treading towards her desk once again. "Can you tell me what you can make out of this?" She questions, pointing at the papers on the floor.

"It's a mess," he answers, sucking in his breath, realising that that was not an answer he should have given, especially not to her. Emma glares at him and in return he gives her an apologetic smile. Emma stands up, stopping in the middle of the room.

"Stand next to me and look at it again," Killian looks does as told. She's smaller than him, even with her high heels and she wears an enjoyable vanilla perfume, subtle and not too overwhelming.

"It's the deal with that electronic company," he notes. Emma nods. "What about it?"

"Tell me your opinion about it," she urges, crossing her arms.

"It looks... good," he answers hesitantly, if he's honest this deal could be a loss to the company, but he can't tell her that, now can he? "But I am no expert," Killian quickly adds.

"Mr. Jones," Emma lays her eyes on him, "I needed an outsider opinion, an honest one. Now I need you to look at me, pretend I am not your boss and tell me what you really think, no lies," he meets her eyes, like forest leaves, a little tired, not too much make up, and haunting. Her lips are full and a natural soft pink. Her skin is pale, but her cheeks are rosy. Her blond hair tied back into a bun, strands of hair coming loose.

"I think you're beautiful," he answers, his voice soft and gentle. Her rosy cheeks turn red, eyes widen and her lips part, wanting to say something but unable to find the words. They close and open a couple of times before looking away from him, back to the pile of papers. Maybe she wants to yell at him for crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed, or maybe she is unsure of what to reply because she doesn't know how to react to a compliment. She scratches her arm as she shifts on her legs, clearly showing that she is nervous.

Killian clears his throat. Stop saying idiot things, he reminds himself. "I think this deal might be a loss for the company, it looks good but on long terms it is not that good," Emma nods, still in silence after he had called her beautiful. As he moves away from her, back towards the door, he looks back at her once more. "I'm sorry," he looks at her before opening the door.

"It's just… I've never been… called beautiful before," she simply says. Killian hesitates to reply something about how true it is, but she starts talking again. "Can you look at this file for me, and take out the pros and cons, if you aren't busy?" She questions as she leans towards the papers on her desk, the ones she was looking at earlier.

"Deadline?" He simply asks.

"You didn't answer my question, are you busy?" Killian shakes his head quickly.

"My current task will be finished in a few moments," he replies. Emma nods as she sits back down behind her desk.

"And I'm assuming you do celebrate Christmas?" Again, Killian shakes his head.

"I have no one at home waiting for me and I work tomorrow as well," he reminds her of his schedule.

"Very well," Emma answers, looking away from Killian again, opening her drawer to take out another set of papers. "I would like documents back before noon, that was all." Killian nods once, taking the papers and leaving her office.

"You were in there a long time," Alice laughs, sitting on Killian's desk, legs crossed and wiggling while stirring in the large cup of soup in her hands. She may be almost forty-five but she still thinks she's twenty and it's not an enjoyable sight. "Did she get mad at you?"

"No," Killian replies, spreading the documents Emma just gave him out on his desk. "She was very nice, actually," He whispers, hoping Emma wouldn't hear him. Alice nods and grins, leaning closer.

"Always during the holiday season, she gets lonely," her breath smells of hot tomato soup, a rather unpleasant smell if it comes from someone's mouth. "If you want to win her heart, now is definitely your best chance."

"I don't want to win her heart," Killian brushes off the idea. "Listen, I have this important task, so if you please."

"Okay, honey," Alice smiles, "but if you do, she has a weakness for hot chocolate with cinnamon."

"She doesn't like anything sweet," Killian objects, laying his papers on his desk, wide enough so that Alice has to get up.

"She used to, but then she got promoted to big boss and now nothing is good enough for her. However I am certain that the path to Miss Swan's heart is actually still a river made out of hot chocolate with cinnamon," Alice shrugs once and leaves him, returning to her own desk. Killian takes a deep breath. Once. Once he asked his co-workers if Emma was seeing someone, and now the whole office thinks he has a thing for her. Even though his colleagues are usually very nice, they can't let go of things, and will keep teasing anyone that ever said something wrong. He only asked, a few days after she got mad at him again, and this because he felt sorry for the person she might have been seeing. And maybe a little bit because he had developed a small crush on her.

That crush, however, had started to fade away soon as it was clear she wasn't interested. But looking back, it really didn't seem like a good idea to ask his co-workers. Emma had either completely ignored the rumours, never heard the rumours, or couldn't care less about the rumours. Sure, she was lovely to look at, but most of the time she was far from delightful company and not someone he could see himself spending his days with.

He thinks.

\---

By the time night had fallen in the office, and even though it got dark, it also got warmer, like someone turned on the heating. Emma probably. Her pale cheeks betrayed that she was cold most of the time. There had been a few time where their hands touched while she handed him something, and the cold of her hands had made him tense. But now it was pleasantly warm in the office, cosy to work in. Killian is staring at his papers when the door behind him opens, he looks up, Emma stands behind him.

"I eh..." She starts, slightly bewildered. "I didn't realise someone was still here." He takes her in, her hair is loose, not in her usual bun, and it is far longer than he had thought, lazy curling up until the middle of her spine. She had taken off her vest and now she's only wearing her white shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned and loosely tucked into her black skirt. Black tights, accentuating what long legs she has. But the best part? She had taken off her shoes, leaving her a lot smaller then she appears to be in her high heels. She catches him staring at her feet and wiggles her toes, covering her left foot with her right, trying to cover up the fact that she is shoeless. She looks completely and utterly adorable, he realises, and maybe, just maybe there is still a bit of that crush left. Killian hides a smile, his voice gentle as he speaks up.

"It's okay, miss Swan, can I get you anything?" He looks up at her, the light from her office behind her, silhouetting her figure.

"No, thank you," she replies, "I was going to get something to drink, but I can do that myself. What are you still doing here?"

"Looking at the document you gave me," Emma leans her hands on his desk, looking at the notes he made. A small list of pros, and a bigger list of cons. "I'm not a professional," he adds, once again, as he sees her eyes scanning his handwriting.

"It's okay, you made a few very good statements," she speaks soft-spoken words, amazing how her voice could go from yelling at him, so that the whole office has heard her, to speaking in a tone that he could listen to all day long. Killian stands up, gesturing for Emma to sit down.

"I'll get you something to drink."

"Okay," she nods as she sits down, already having devoted her full attention to his notes. With anyone else, he would think that that person hadn't heard him. But she hears everything, even when being enormously busy. "Nothing with caffeine, if you please, I intend on going home soon," she adds before he enters the office kitchen. Nodding is useless, as always, she isn't looking.

When he comes back, hot chocolate in his hand she is no longer in his chair, but the door to her office is ajar. He knocks the door once, entering before given permission and placing the cup on the place between her pencil case and telephone. She looks up.

"I - is that, hot chocolate?" She questions, taking the warm cup in her hands, sniffing it. "With cinnamon?" She takes her finger through the whipped cream and licks it off her finger, not in a seductive kind of way, but in a cute kind of way, even though she may not even be trying, and just be enjoying the whipped cream. She looks up, her eyes sparkling. Killian smiles back.

"Well, I'm going home..." She nods, "Merry Christmas Eve, miss Swan. I'll see you tomorrow," he says and leaves her office.

\---

The guard taps his hat, greeting Killian as he walks by. "Morning," he smiles. "Merry Christmas."

"Morning," Killian replies, "And you too." He says before stepping in the elevator, as he turns he sees Emma stepping in the building, he takes a small step forward as the doors close, causing for them to open up again. She smiles and speeds her pace.

"Thanks, Jones," she mutters as the doors close, stepping next to him to look in the mirror, making sure her hair is in place.

"You still look pretty," he smirks, "Although, the way you looked last night was still my favourite outfit of yours."

"Do explain?" She asks, stroking with her fingers over her lips, this time she is unchanged by the fact he called her pretty, and it is strange.

"I liked your casual look, you know, when you thought everybody was gone..."

"My casual look..." She repeats, looking up at him. He smiles at her, but she merely raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"I like your hair better loose, and I wouldn't mind if you ran around without those heels."

"But I have to look professional, don't I?" She laughs at her own words.

"I think it will be just me today," Killian notes, looking down on her. "No need to look professional for me, and you also hide yourself in your office all the time, so basically you could walk around naked..."

"Yes, and you would like that, wouldn't you?" Her voice is teasing and low.

"Well..." He starts, "I would probably come in a few more times than I already do," he jokes. Emma shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips. The elevator door opens and Killian gestures for her to go first.

"After the conversation we just had, I am unsure if you do this because you're a gentleman, or because you want to stare at my butt," Emma says, taking her purse under her arms and stepping out. Killian grins, stepping right behind her. Now that she mentioned it, he really does have a hard time trying to not take a peek.

"Would you like the honest reply, or do you want me to lie?" She turns around so quickly that Killian nearly bumps into her. The personal space is nearly gone, but neither of them moves. The office is empty anyway, and he already figured out that when it was just the two of them, she would allow herself to act a little more comfortable, teasing, loose, all those things she usually isn't.

"What exactly is the honest reply, Jones?" She smiles.

"I was being a gentleman, but if you step away from me now, I cannot guarantee you that I will not take a peek," he smiles back at her. Emma simply nods and steps away from him as sensual as possible.

"Don't forget you promised me the documents by noon," she reminds him while walking in her office. When she closes the door of her office behind her he can hear her laugh - softened by the closed door, Killian smiles and shakes his head. If only she were like this all the time.

By noon he has indeed finished his task and knocks the door of Emma's office. Careless to wait, he walks in. Unlike yesterday, her office is tidy again. She is standing in front of her window, looking over the city, her arms crossed, and her hair is loose and hanging over her shoulders. He hides a smile, she let her hair loose, like he told her he liked. She looks behind her, acknowledging his presence, but then looks back outside.

"Your hair is loose," he notes. Emma nods, not looking behind her.

"Did you come in to see if I was naked?"

"I didn't exactly have high hopes, but I gotta admit I'm a little disappointed..." She snorts, letting her entire body shake briefly.

"Anything else, Jones?" She stops him before he can continue to talk about it. Killian smiles, liking how she sometimes just calls him Jones, not Mr. Jones, but Jones. What if in a relationship, they would just call each other Jones and Swan? He shakes his head. No. Don't think that, he reminds himself, you do not want a relationship with her. At least, she does not want a relationship with you.

"I eh, I have your files back," he answers.

"Just put them on my desk."

"Is everything all right?" Killian questions, as he starts to take soundless steps towards her desk.

"Yeah..." She trails off, "It's snowing," her voice is low and gentle, as if fascinated by the snow, and as she looks back to him, he can see that a small smile has taken place on her face. Wordlessly, she invites him to stand next to her, to enjoy the view. Small snowflakes are falling down the sky, sticking against the window and falling onto the buildings, already having created a small blanket of snow.

"Gets you in the Christmas mood, doesn't it?" Killian offers, but Emma shakes her head.

"Like I said yesterday, I don't celebrate Christmas, a little bit of snow won't change that."

"I bet I could get you in the Christmas mood," she looks at him giving him a small smile.

"I'd like to see you try. Go home, Jones, enjoy your Christmas day."

"Yes, Miss Swan, if you will too," she shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

"You are a very stubborn man, I'm done in just a minute, and then I will go home as well."

"I don't believe you and thus, I will wait, behind my desk until you go home."

"Jones!" Emma yells, not in an angry kind of way, but in a 'I can't believe he dares teasing me like that' - kind of way. He grins, this is his chance.

"Swan," he smiles back. She shakes her head again, pursing her lips to hide the smile playing on her lips.

"Out," she demands with a stern voice, trying to keep her authority, laying her cold hand on his back to push him towards the door, "I'll be right there," she promises.

\---

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says as he watches her step towards the edge of the street, holding her hand up for a cab.

"See you, Jones," Emma replies, turning to face him. All these times she never looked at him when he spoke to her, but now she even turned around to look at him. Snowflakes have already been captured in her hair, and her green eyes look even brighter in the white surroundings. He nods, as a way of goodbye when he catches himself staring at her, and turns around, the snow crunching underneath his feet as he makes his way through the cold, toward his car. He kicks the snow with his feet and buries his head into his scarf, protecting his ears from the cold, his hands deep in his pockets.

More than twenty minutes must have passed since he got to his car, and drove onto the road. But she is still standing there, obviously annoyed. He opens up his window.

"Swan!" He yells, her eyes find his through the traffic. "Let me drive you home," she hesitates, pursing her lips, but eventually she crosses the road, taking place in the passenger's side. Killian closes the window an turns up the heating, as he looks at her. Her skin has gotten white as snow, and the snowflakes in her hair start to melt already.

"Well then, Jones," she emphasizes his last name, causing for Killian to wonder if took it too far.

"Why are you so kind to me?"

"You look frozen, cabs are full with people who want to get home on Christmas day, and you're not the worst..." She hits his arm playfully. "Turn off the heating when you're warm enough, okay?" She nods once. "All right, boss, tell me where to."

The short ride is mostly in silence, apart from an occasional 'turn here'. They end up in front of an apartment block a few miles away from the offices.

"Thank you," she says and starts to get out already.

"Miss Swan?" Emma bows, so that she can see his face, "Are you home the entire afternoon?" She frowns but nods. "Good," he smiles, "I'll see you later."

\---

He looks at the buttons, no name cards, seriously? He shrugs and then proceeds to push all the buttons at once, more than one "hello" greet him. Eight if he counted correctly. "I'm looking for Emma Swan," he says.

"I'm in 3A," her voice replies, followed by an amount of clicks, people hanging up again. "Who's this?"

"It's Killian," he replies, "May I come in?" The door unlocks without a further word. His thoughts filled with, this is such a bad idea, as he pushes the button in the elevator. But what does he have to lose? You know, apart from his job? A well paid, and not that boring job... He hesitates before knocking the door, but then he does. Knocking twice. She opens the door, looking at him with her wide eyes. She's changed her clothes and is now wearing a red, knee-high dress, with three quarter sleeves and cotton tights. And her hair is hanging in loose curls over her shoulders. "A tad bit Christmas-y," he smiles at her clothes.

"It's just a warm dress, that's all," she replies, "What are you doing here?"

"You said you would like to see me try to get you in the Christmas mood, here I am."

"Mr. Jones, I can have you fired for this, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but you won't because you don't want to be alone now, even if you won't admit it," she squints.

"Don't be so cheeky," she squints her eyes. He stares at her, wondering why she has started to push him away again all of a sudden. You know, apart from the uninvited show up at her doorstep. His heart beats in his throat and clearing it didn't really help, it just softened his voice.

"Listen, Miss Swan, just give it a chance, if you still want to fire me after tonight, then you should, but for now..." Killian trails off, as she opens her door. He smiles a little and walks past her, taking off his shoes, putting them next to hers. The carpet is soft and pleasantly warm under his feet. He picks up his bags again and carried them through the small hallway. "I know you're smiling," he says, once she's behind his back.

"Shut up, Jones," it sounds as the door closes, but her voice betrays that she was in fact smiling. "What are you carrying anyway?" He places the bags next to the table, looking around. Contrary to her office, her apartment isn't sleek. It smells of vanilla and burning wood, it's cosy and warm - and this not just for the fireplace on his left. For a moment it's dead silent, apart from their breathing, and he can hear the wood popping and crackling. The window in the back looks over the city, but the view isn't as impressive as the view from her office.

"I brought Christmas stuff," he replies, as he continues to look around. There are three more doors, presumably to the bathroom and bedroom, another one of what he doesn't know. Next to the fireplace there's a big TV, and a large couch, with quite a few pillows on it. On the other side there is a desk, right next to an opening in the wall that leads to the kitchen. Overall, it's a cosy and tidy place, but then again she doesn't really spend all that much time here.

"Christmas stuff," she mutters as she stands next to him. He lays the bags on the table, taking a Santa hat from one of the bags, placing it on her head. She purses her lips, trying to glare at him, but all he can do is laugh at how cute she looks. She bumps her shoulder against his arm.

"Stop laughing," she demands, while making movements to take off the hat.

"I'm not working right now, I can't take orders from you. And don't take it off, you promised to give it a chance."

"I'm not taking orders from you either and I made no such promises," she lifts her chin stubbornly, closing her eyes. Killian smiles at her act.

"When you let me through that door, you made the unspoken promise," she opens one eye and sighs.

"Fine," she mutters while putting the Santa hat back on, "Got another one?"

"Yeah," he looks through the bag, taking the second one out.

"Good," she replies, taking it out of his hands, pulling it over his head, and over his eyes. When he moves it up a little she's laughing soundlessly. He has never seen her so human, so carefree, so beautiful. "Can I get you anything to drink? I have Coca Cola, you like that right?" She questions.

"Yes," Killian answers. "How did you know?"

"There is usually a can of Coca Cola on your desk at work, so I assumed..." Emma shrugs as she leaves his side, into the kitchen. "So, what else have you got?" She asks as she comes back with two colas in her hands. He takes a box out of the other bag, placing it in front of her, for her to open. She puts the Coca Cola's in front of her and lets her hands slide over the edges, tearing the tape loose. Inside is a small plastic Christmas tree, when it stands up it will be barely two feet tall. He starts to take out decorations as she starts to put the Christmas tree together. She sits down on the high chair one leg under her bum, her other dangling from the chair.

She is so delightful when she's not stressing out over her job, he realises. He places the boxes with the Christmas balls on the table, along with the lights and garlands. He sits across the table, helping her put the Christmas tree ready for decoration. He can see her looking at him through the green twigs, but when he meets her eyes, she looks away. He smiles, finding out that she can be a shy person, that she can be put to embarrassment has felt better than he thought, once again proving that she does have a human side, not all focussed on her job.

When he looks at her again, she is smiling too, while putting the lights in the tree, starting on top, when she can't reach the back she hands them to Killian. He places them carefully on his part of the tree and hands it to her on the opposite side of where she gave him the lights. They continue to do this until the tree is entirely covered, and this as well for the red garland. He brought four boxes with Christmas balls, two red and two white. Emma hands him the red ones and takes the white balls for herself.

It is silent for a good ten minutes - ten minutes of them, just decorating an undersized Christmas tree - before she speaks up, breaking the silence with a hoarse voice.

"I haven't put up a Christmas tree since I was..." She stops to think, and clears her throat, "Eleven, I think." She then nods, "Eleven," she confirms her own story.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks gently, as he takes a ball out of the box, placing it strategically in the tree.

"I think so, I've never told anyone, I mean sometimes I wish I could just spill it all to someone..." Killian shoves his chair aside so that he can see her clearly, no Christmas tree in the way, letting her know he's listening. She smiles and nods once. "Okay, well my mother got very ill when I was eleven, so there wasn't a Christmas-y sphere in December. She died a year later," Killian nods, as he takes a ball out of the box, handing it to her, she smiles at him, their fingers touching as she takes the ball out of his hand. "My dad was too focussed on work to make time to put up a Christmas tree after that, he only gave me presents until I was sixteen."

Killian hands her another ball, leaning on his hand, watching her as she speaks. "When I was eighteen - right after I graduated; a graduation he failed to show up at, might I add - my father gave me a small job in his company. And like others, actually no, even more than others, I had to prove myself to get higher up. He died four years ago, leaving the company to me at the age of 26."

Emma hesitates looking at the Christmas tree as Killian opens up the last package with red balls, handing one to her. "I didn't know what to do, the company was all I had left. I saw people staring at me, waiting for me to collapse, I heard them saying I couldn't do it. I only took the spot because I wanted to prove them wrong. And now four years later, I'm lonely, no time to put up a Christmas tree, with a company too big for me to handle, but I just won't admit it because I don't want them to be right after all." Killian smiles.

"You just admitted it to me, that's a start," she gives him a small smile and then gestures to the tree, changing the subject, giving him the idea that's all she wants to say about it. He's not very surprised, she has opened up to him in this moment more than she ever did in those few years he worked for her.

"Did I do okay?" Emma asks, he nods. Getting up, reaching inside the bags again, "You brought more stuff?" She asks as she slides off her chair, standing next to him. He takes out a bag with corn, Christmas movies and a bottle of red wine. "Reminder that we have to go to work tomorrow."

"One glass won't get you drunk, but if you're scared, we can stick to hot chocolate."

"I don't have any..." She stops talking as he takes out the ingredients, even the whipped cream and cinnamon. He gives her a smug smile. "Stop," Emma mutters, taking the bottle of wine from the table, once again she disappears into the kitchen, coming back with two glasses, filled with wine. She hands him one, letting their fingers touch again as he takes it from her. For once, her fingers aren't cold. He finds that their touches are pleasant, even with her usually cold hands, and that somehow she keeps doing it, finding him, touching him. "What..." she looks at the table, it is cleared - apart from the Christmas tree on the edge - and ingredients have been placed on the table.

"Tonight, we will do every Christmas cliché, we've done the Christmas tree, later we'll do the Christmas movies, and now it's time for the gingerbread house, I brought the gingerbread premade, it's just the putting it together and decorating though," he ticks his glass against hers, "Merry Christmas, Swan."

"Merry Christmas, Jones," she smiles, a little overwhelmed. Never has anyone put this much effort in spending time with her, and she likes it, so much. She takes a sip from her glass and sits down. He sits down again as well, opening the bag of candy. He stuffs a sour candy in his mouth and she hits his hand in a playful way.

"For the house, not for you!" She smirks, Killian shakes his head smilingly as he helps assemble the pieces for the house. Most of the decorating the house exists from Killian watching Emma as she finds her inner child back, while smiling like she has never smiled before, and occasionally sneaking a candy - she shakes her head almost every time.

"Will you excuse me for a moment," she mutters as she gets up.

"Yes, Miss Swan."

"Emma," She corrects him, he frowns, "You can call me Emma," she whispers.

"Okay... Emma," he smiles. She leaves the table, disappearing behind one of the doors. He catches a glimpse of the room, seeing it's the bathroom. Killian gets up quickly, taking a mistletoe from the bag. He's not exactly sure how far he can push her, but he has always wanted to know what her lips would feel like and taste like.

He hangs the mistletoe in the opening of the kitchen, fixing it with a piece of tape. He closes his eyes, sighing, realising that this would probably be where she drew the line. He sits back on his chair as he hears the toilet flush and water run from the sink.

"Say that again," she tells him as she sits back down on her chair.

"Say what again?" He questions, finishing his wine.

"My name..."

"Emma," he repeats. A smile appears on her face, but she doesn't go in on it, instead she starts to decorate the gingerbread house again. He likes this Emma, this walls-down-Emma, smiling Emma. She takes her glass of wine and empties it in one gulp, while facing him.

"Can you be honest with me?" She starts as she puts her glass down, not taking her eyes off him. "A couple of months ago, rumours spread you had a crush going on... Was it true?" Killian nods slowly, but her reaction is indifferent. "Is it still true?" Again, Killian nods.

"Good," she mumbles, looking away from him, devoting her attention to the gingerbread house again. "I like you, Jones. I'm not gonna lie, you're easy on the eye, and the fact that you had a pretty good resume, made it easy for me to hire you," Emma takes another candy from the bag and glues it to the house.

He stares at her hands, slowly letting it sink in that she's telling him she likes him too.

"But I realised quickly that I have no time for relationships. I have been constantly torn between letting you in, and pushing you away, and these last few days you've made it so hard for me..." She faces him, letting their eyes meet. "I'm not pushing you away because I'm an asshole, I'm pushing you away because I simply wouldn't have time for you and I don't want to hurt you. So call me Emma, call me Swan, joke around, if that's what you want, but that is where I draw the line; don't cross it."

"I kind of want to make out with you now," Killian mutters. She laughs.

"I said don't cross it."

"And we can't talk about it?" She shakes her head.

"You deserve someone who has time for you, who devotes her attention to you, instead of her job, someone who knows how to love, someone... the opposite of me. Jesus, Jones, why did you even fall for me in the first place?"

"I think you're beautiful..." Emma frowns.

"Is that all?" She asks, slightly offended.

"No, but telling you would mean crossing the line," she raises her eyebrows, pressuring him to continue talking. "You're a strong woman, you know what you want. You're a great leader and you're independent. Sometimes you're vulnerable, but this only when you think no one is paying attention, but I do, and I've seen it all. When you come out the elevator in the morning and you hastily walk into your office, because the thought that you might fail has crossed your mind during the ride up. Or when you are looking out over the city, the back of your chair turned towards the door so that I wouldn't see, but I can hear the sobs..." He trails off, as he hears a sniff, her eyes are tearless until she blinks. She gets off her chair, walking toward the kitchen, but he catches up with her, pulling her against him in a soft embrace. Hesitatingly, Emma wraps her arms around his waist, grabbing hold of his shirt. "I'm sorry," Killian whispers.

"Don't be," her voice sounds muffled against his chest, "I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Then we're even," he grins, "I never knew you thought I was... How did you put it to words? Easy on the eye?" His teasing words cause for her to shake in his arms from laughter, she looks up, their arms still wrapped around each other, when she sees the mistletoe.

"Is that..." Killian looks up and nods.

"Seemed like a good idea, before I made you cry, I mean, I said we would cover every cliché," he says as he looks back at her, her eyes go from the mistletoe to meeting his eyes, she nods once.

"And I said I would give it a chance," she stands tiptoe, gently pressing her lips against his. And that's when she pulls back, putting back a distance between them. Her face shows confliction, and she looks everywhere but at him. Taking a slow step in the kitchen before stopping again. Killian purses his lips, keeping his distance, not wanting to make her even more uncomfortable.

"Maybe we could watch that movie now?" Killian suggests, feeling a little caught off guard by her kiss. She looks up and nods hastily, glad that he has given her a direction to go to. She walks by the table, taking the gingerbread house and putting it on the coffee table. He follows her over to the couch, but not before taking one of the DVDs from the bag first. He licks his lips, tasting the sweetness of hot chocolate on her tongue, remembering the soft pressure of her perfectly shaped lips. Lips he wouldn't mind getting kissed by again. She sits in the left corner of the couch, pulling her legs up next to her, reaching out to break off a piece of the gingerbread house while Killian inserts the disk in the DVD-player. He looks behind him, to find Emma staring, he gives her a small smile and she gives him an absent smile in return.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"I kissed you," Emma replies, staring at the piece of gingerbread in her hands.

"It was a mistletoe-kiss, doesn't count," Killian assures her smilingly, but this time she doesn't smile back. He sits down next to her, starting the movie. Somewhere after the first half hour he pauses the movie, and looks at her, she doesn't even look up, she's still staring at the TV screen. After a short minute she looks up.

"You stopped the movie," she notes.

"Sure took you long enough to notice..." Killian replies, sitting so that his entire body faces her, leaning with his elbow on the backrest. "Listen, I won't tell anyone about -" he's cut off, her hands are holding onto his cheeks and her soft lips are once again pressed against his. His eyes are wide as she pulls back to look at him.

"Well that one did count."

"Good," she smiles. He returns the smile, leaning in and kissing her again. Her hands slip over his neck, running her hands through his hair. Her touch sends the right kind of shivers down his spine. Her lips are demanding and he's willing to give. Her hands pull back from his neck, leaning them on his chest, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

"Miss Swan, do I have permission to take you to your room?" She chuckles and nods, "Permission granted." But what she didn't expect is that he would pull her up, she curls her legs around his waist, holding on to his shoulders, she leans back in, but he stops her briefly.

"Which door?" He questions before her lips touch his again.

"The one on the left," she replies against his lips. His hands run over her back as he walks in the bedroom, pulling the zipper down. He closes the door, pressing her softly against the wall. Emma's hand slips over the wall, turning on the light. He looks behind him, seeing exactly where the bed is. It's a small bedroom, a rather plain, too. There is a small window, but the curtains have covered it for the most of it, barely letting through any light. His eyes meet hers as his hand slips over hers, her lips are swollen, her breathing slightly unsteady.

He gives her a small smile as he turns the light back off. Her lips find his again, letting her tongue lick over his lips until he opens his mouth. It is quite the strange feeling, of all, he never expected Emma to share a bed with him for the night. And of all, he never expected it to be Emma that he was kissing now. And damn she was good at it, she's a soft and gentle kisser, putting exactly the right kind of pressure into them. He turns them around, his grip tightens on her thighs, any more pressure and finger-shaped bruises might show up tomorrow.

Taking small steps in the direction of the bed, never taking his lips off hers. His hands slip over her body as he lets her stand on her legs, right before her bed. In the dark, she takes off his shirt and lets him take off her dress. He picks her up and lays her down on her back, kissing her neck, down to her collarbone.

"You don't have to be so careful with me, you know..." She mutters, lifting her body to take off her bra. Killian smirks as he hears it fall down on the floor.

"Very well," he answers, peeling off her tights in one quick movement. He slips his hands down her panties to find that she is already wet. "Swan, what have you been thinking about?" He teases her and rubs his finger against her clit. She brings her head up, so that her lips meets his.

"It was a bit of this," she whispers against his lips, "and this," she unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down. The most pleasing thing that thus far happened, since his pants had started to feel like a too small cage. Well you know, the most pleasing thing, after finding out that she was very ready for him. And maybe also after the fact that she was now slipping her hands down his boxers. In his mind he thanks her for not having such cold hands now. "Fuck," she mutters upon feeling him.

"I'm flattered, Swan," he grins even if she cannot see him do so. He places kisses onto her chest and breasts, taking her hard nipple between his lips, playing with it with his tongue. He moans softly when she tugs his cock, and in return he slips two fingers inside her, easily.

"Please just..." she leaves her sentence unfinished as he plays around with his fingers. He lets go of her nipple to look up, trying to see her face in the dark.

"Are you going to beg for me, Swan?"

"No," she hisses, taking her hand out of his boxers, trying to undo his pants.

"Are you sure?" He asks, slipping his fingers deeper inside her. "Are you really sure?" At this point, he is unsure if he's grinning at her failed attempt of trying to get his pants off, or at the fact that she gets wetter by the second, her body tensing at each touch. He makes bigger movements, adding another finger. She takes hold of his lower arm, digging her nails into his flesh.

"Fine, yes. I'll beg, take me, now, please," she breathes. He smiles, kissing her lips quickly.

"Good girl," he whispers, taking his hand out of her panties, to take of his pants and boxers. While he was doing so she had quickly taken off her own panties as well, unable to wait for him to do so.

"I forgot, what was-" he starts to tease, but Emma leaves no room for his teasing,

"Take. Me." Emma hisses, showing her bossy authoritarian side. He laughs.

"Fine," he gives in, bringing his body to meet with hers, slowly pushing into her. She moans softly, grabbing hold of the blankets. He kisses her lips, wanting her to make that sound against his lips as he thrusts again, and she does. He grins, finding pleasure in giving her pleasure. His hand slips over her thigh, but as if she already knows what he wants of her, she pulls her legs up, curling them around his waist. Breathing heavy when he goes in deeper. Killian starts to take a pace, of sometimes deeper thrusts, making her squeak a little, as if she's trying to hold in her moans, and it's the loveliest.

He growls as her nails dig into his back, scratching down as he thrusts inside her. Somehow, he can't help but wonder what his back will look like tomorrow, covered in red scratches, some deeper than the other. But bloody hell, what a memory to this night. Upon thrusting inside her again, he feels her walls clenching, and he prepares himself for the moment her nails will dug into his skin again, and they do. Moaning louder than the times before, grabbing hold of his back.

As he continues to thrust, to get to his own climax her legs start to lose their grip.

"Hey," he mutters, his voice verging on the edge of a growl.

"Sorry," she laughs, "I may or may not have lost the sense in my legs." Killian snorts, but even without her legs around his waist, he manages to climax, whispering her name against her neck, alternating with kisses, breathing heavily as he finishes.

He eventually rolls off her, flinching a little as he remembers she scratched probably his entire back open. Even if he's still breathing heavily, he lays down on his chest, running his finger over the sheets. Emma turns on a fade nightlight, looking at him. He's stares at her, slightly out of breath, and sweating a little, but smiling when her eyes meet his.

"Are you okay?" She whispers. Killian nods, his voice heavy as he speaks up.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean your back..." He smiles wide, a certain kind of smugness covering his face.

"Only a sign that I did well." Emma laughs, leaning on her elbow, placing gentle kisses on the scratches.

"Will you stay?" She whispers, her breath tickling his back, as she continues to place soft kisses on his back.

"As you wish," he mutters, his eyes closing at her gentle touches.


End file.
